


cutting through this daily haze

by AppleJuiz



Series: cutting through [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ember Island (Avatar), F/M, Suki-centric, that video of Carly Rae Jepsen getting a sword but make it avatar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25321552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleJuiz/pseuds/AppleJuiz
Summary: Suki has this dream sometimes when her nights aren’t plagued by blue heat and sharp calculating eyes.They’re at the Western Air Temple. Azula is attacking and she wants to stay and fight but knows well enough that sometimes you have to cut your losses. They head for the tunnels but Appa won’t go no matter how they coax him.And she’s in the tunnel watching as Sokka and Katara hug their father goodbye again. She’s in the tunnel as Sokka looks over at her and they exchange a look that says all the things she doesn’t know how to say and all the things he wishes he had the time to.He doesn’t take her hand and pull her out of the tunnel. He just turns to his sister and Aang and Toph and they lead Appa away and out into the sky, off on another great adventure.
Relationships: Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Suki & The Gaang (Avatar), Suki & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: cutting through [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840132
Comments: 12
Kudos: 139





	cutting through this daily haze

**Author's Note:**

> Suki simp nation rise.

#

Ember Island is beautiful. 

The beach is beautiful, the house is beautiful, the sunsets are beautiful. Suki can’t remember the last time she’s been somewhere so quiet and peaceful. 

It’s unnerving. 

Sometimes in the mornings she can slip out of bed and wander around the beach house for almost an hour before she runs into anyone. Sometimes in the afternoon she walks from one end of the property to the other and can’t even see the house by the end of it. She hasn’t had this much space to work with in months. She tries to get used to it, the space and the fresh air and the freedom. 

The first few days are fine. She does sprints on the beach and in the trees. She scales her way to the roof again and again until she can do it effortlessly. She maps escape routes from every room in the house. She spends a whole day swimming and swimming, over and under the waves, as far out as she can and then back to shore, until her eyes sting from the salt water and her muscles ache. 

And then the day after that she just sits on the roof for a few hours and watches the waves in the distance and nothing changes, nothing goes catastrophic, no one attacks. It’s all exactly the same. 

She misses her armor, she misses her makeup, she misses her fans. She’s a leader without people, she’s a warrior without weapons. It’s all gone. Everything she was and everything she defined herself by. 

She has nothing left. 

Well, she has space now. And freedom. And Sokka. 

She sits by him at meals and lays out on the sand with him and talks through tentative battle plans with him. At night they wait for everyone else to fall asleep and she’ll sneak over to his room or he’ll sneak over to hers or they’ll bump into each other in the hall between their rooms and laugh in whispers. And then they’ll fold into each other in a bed and make out for a little while until it gets too hard to open their eyes again. 

It’s good. It is good, really good. She’s not sure why she has to keep reminding herself that this is good. 

It’s easy when she wakes up in the morning and the sunlight is soft and Sokka is sleep warm and it feels like they’re in the safest place in the world. But he always wakes up and they always get out of bed and the moment passes and she just feels bored and empty again. 

  
  
  


Sokka heads into town one day to buy some food and check for any news. He’s gone by the time she wakes up. 

She rolls over until she’s flat on her back, and stares up at the ceiling like she used to do in her cell. She cycles quickly through worries about her girls, her island, Sokka, the war, following well defined motions from worry to worry without thinking because it’s muscle memory. It takes no time and for a few seconds after, her brain is completely quiet. It’s nice. She thinks maybe she should get into meditation.

And then in the absence of anything else she starts to think about Boiling Rock and Azula, blue lightning cracking in front of her eyes, jumping closer and closer while she did her best not to flinch. Blue flames so close to her face she felt her eyebrows singe and her eyes water. Heat and electricity so palpable in the air she almost couldn’t breath. Forcing a smile through it until her face hurt even though she knew Azula was sharp enough to see the fear in her eyes. 

She exhales sharply and sits up fast. 

No meditation then. She changes and wanders down to the kitchen where Zuko is sitting and sipping tea. She’s so bored she considers actually asking him about why his sister is like that and how he got that scar and why exactly he’s here now because it’s cool but there’s definitely a story there.

Then he almost chokes on his tea in his haste to wheeze out a, “Morning.” 

Aside from breaking out of prison together and an endorsement from Sokka, she also deeply relates to Zuko’s obvious uncertainty being here and not alone. They’re both the newcomers to a group that has traveled the world together, risked their lives together, forged bonds over time and conflict. And she knows she’d hate having to answer questions about her past over breakfast so it’s probably a better call to just smile back and wave. Zuko stops coughing up a lung and gestures to the kettle. “I made tea. Would you like some?”

“Sure,” she says, stretching out her shoulders and grabbing herself a cup. “What are you doing today?” She pours herself some tea and sits down across from him. 

“More training,” he says. “Aang’s getting better but fire is still his weakest element.”

Suki nods and takes a sip. 

“He’s warming up with Katara now,” Zuko continues. “Toph is still asleep so they’ll probably practice later.”

She grins. Toph always sleeps in and sometimes Suki will pass by her door and see her in bed, looking her age for once, snoring with her face buried deep in a pillow. It’s cute and sweet, not that she’ll ever say aloud. 

“What are you up to?” Zuko asks. 

And that’s the question isn’t it. What will she do today? What can she do today? What use is she? Why is she here at all?

She sighs and shrugs. 

“Might go swimming,” she says. “Might watch you guys train.”

Zuko nods contemplatively. 

“Aang sometimes works well with an audience,” Zuko offers. 

Suki raises her eyebrows. He shrugs sheepishly. 

“What? I said sometimes.”

She smiles and finishes off her tea before standing. 

“Thanks for the tea. It was really good,” she says as she heads for the door. He smiles brightly and sits up a little straighter. Maybe one day she'll get bored enough to ask him about what’s his deal with tea. It seems like a safer question than the others. 

But he at least has things to get to today, so she just heads outside to find Aang and Katara. 

  
  
  


They’re on the beach, not doing routines and forms like she expected but full out fighting, throwing water back and forth, shooting out across the waves and back to shore. 

Katara has a look of focus that furrows her brow. She keeps Aang on his toes, on the defense and doesn’t let up, even though he still wears a dopey grin and looks at her with shining eyes. 

Suki walks down closer to the shore to watch them better, digging her toes in the sand and crossing her arms over her chest. 

It’s beautiful in a way that all bending is beautiful. But there’s something about water bending though, the fluidity of movement in it and the subtlety of the force behind it, that’s wonderful to watch. 

Katara gets the upper hand eventually, knocking Aang down to the sand with a sudden wave and keeping him there for a moment before they break. She helps him up, offering pointers, and he smiles. 

Aang notices Suki first, waving excitedly. 

“Morning, Suki,” he calls even though she’s only a few yards away. 

“Hey guys,” she says. “Looking good.”

“What are you up to today, Suki?” Katara asks, fixing her hair as she and Aang catch their breath. 

It’s just a question. A polite question. She wishes she had an answer. 

“Thought I’d watch you guys for a while if that’s okay?” 

Aang looks thrilled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Katara smiles fondly at the back of his head. 

“I don’t know how exciting it’ll be to watch me beat Aang again,” she says.

“Hey,” Aang whines, pouting at her. 

“Well, let’s go again then,” Katara says, raising her eyebrows tauntingly. 

They seperate, coming to stand facing each other on the shore a few feet apart. 

“Ooh,” Aang says, jumping back and breezing over to where Suki is standing. He guides her back a few steps. “You might want to stay out of the splash zone, Suki.”

He’s so earnest and excitable. It’s a bit of marvel really, all things considered. And more than that, it’s contagious. 

“Thanks,” she says, taking a few extra steps back. He hops back over to his starting position across from Katara. 

There’s a beat and something passes between them, some nonverbal cue from how deeply in tune they are and they’re off again. 

It’s a little more evenly matched at the beginning, a give and take to the action and the literal water passing between them. Katara is still sharper and more aggressive but Aang is particularly good at turning her attacks back against her. 

Suki is so absorbed in it she forgets that she’s on the beach with them. She feels like some non existent third part, watching the fight play out. She itches for another fight, for action, for that heart thumping rush of vibrant motion, thinking of everything and nothing, just action and reaction whip fast, guiding along by muscle memory and instinct. 

She’s missing it so much that she doesn’t even realize that their moves are getting bigger and bolder, that they dodge and weave and redirect so fast, that a spike of ice and half a water whip get brushed aside and come flinging her way. 

Aang does.

“Suki, look out,” he shouts. She barely has half a second to inhale sharply before a blast of air knocks her out of the way, off her feet and to the sand. The ice and the water freeze in the air above her before being yanked back into the ocean, and she stares up at the blue, blue sky, heart pounding. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Katara asks, sprinting over. Aang lands down next to her looking equally panicked. 

She pushes herself up slowly, feeling the sand scape against her back. 

“I’m fine,” she says quickly and all but jumps to her feet. 

“Are you—?”

“Yep,” she says. “Perfectly fine. Thank you, Aang.”

“No problem,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He still looks concerned and so does Katara and they just stand there awkwardly in silence together. 

“I just realized I forgot to clean up my breakfast dishes,” she says, backing away and smiling wide. “I should probably go take care of that.”

“Oh,” Katara says. “Are you sure you’re-?”

Suki nods again and continues up the beach. “Yeah. I should probably stay way out of the splash zone. I’ll see you guys at lunch.”

They’re still just standing there, frowning, when she finally turns and walks the rest of the way back from the beach. 

  
  
  


She climbs up to the roof and then climbs back down. She does it again, minimizing the steps she takes, not using windows, not using her legs, not using her arms. 

Up and down, up and down. Faster and faster. 

She moves from the roof through the halls down to the ground outside and back. As quietly as she can, as fast as she can. Again, again, again. She sneaks through Toph’s window silently. She finds footholds in the walls inside and outside. She launches herself in and out of the house, up a floor, down a floor. 

And then she does it again. Faster. Quieter. 

Again, again, again. 

She’s a Kyoshi warrior, without armor, without a weapon, without her sisters. She is nothing she once was. She has nothing left. 

But she’s not in a cell. She still feels trapped, she’s still stuck doing the same futile exercises, she still has lost everything and has no place here. 

But it’s not a cell. 

She’s coated in sweat and dirt. Her breathing comes in hard and her chest feels cold. Her limbs shake as she tucks and rolls into a hallway window on the second floor. 

This time she doesn’t roll back up. She loses all momentum, just flops to the ground and stays there, gasping for air. 

She closes her eyes and lets her limbs rest against the wood, sticky with sweat. The exhaustion is almost it’s own relief. She glances up at the ceiling and breathes. 

“What are you doing?” Toph asks. Suki tips her head all the way back, watching Toph upside down as she yawns and scratches at her head. 

“I don’t know,” she says and it’s the truth. She sighs, swiping wet strands of hair off her forehead. “I’m bored.”

“Tell me about it,” Toph says. “What’s for breakfast?”

  
  
  


Suki has this dream sometimes when her nights aren’t plagued by blue heat and sharp calculating eyes. 

They’re at the Western Air Temple. Azula is attacking and she wants to stay and fight but knows well enough that sometimes you have to cut your losses. They head for the tunnels but Appa won’t go no matter how they coax him. 

And she’s in the tunnel watching as Sokka and Katara hug their father goodbye again. She’s in the tunnel as Sokka looks over at her and they exchange a look that says all the things she doesn’t know how to say and all the things he wishes he had the time to. 

He doesn’t take her hand and pull her out of the tunnel. He just turns to his sister and Aang and Toph and they lead Appa away and out into the sky, off on another great adventure. 

And she heads into the darkness with Hakoda and the others and they keep walking and walking until they see a light at the end. But just as she reaches it, before she can see what’s on the other side, she wakes up. 

She’s not sure what it means. It’s a dream. It probably means nothing. Sometimes there’s a platypus bear in the tunnel with them. Sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel turns into the moon. It’s weird. It’s a dream. 

But she does know that when she reaches the other end of the tunnel that nothing is different. She feels exactly the same as she does now, and she knows in her soul that everyone else does too. 

  
  
  


Sokka comes back from the town with a huge grin on his face. She’s in the kitchen when he returns, having a late lunch across from Toph who’s technically having breakfast. 

He pats Toph on the head when he passes before coming around the table and kissing Suki on the cheek. He’s still smiling, almost maniacally, holding his arms behind his back. 

She smiles back, biting her lower lip. “What?”

“He bought something,” Toph says. “He has a bag behind his back.”

“Toph!” he protests. 

“What? I didn’t tell her what was in the bag. And I could.”

Sokka sighs, and brings the bag forward, holding it out to her.

It makes her feel fuzzy and warm, this little normal thing of having her boyfriend get her something. Sokka’s so good at that, at making things feel normal, at making the war feel like a fading memory. 

“You didn’t have to,” she says, even though she’s glad he did.

“Actually,” he says. “I did.” 

She squints and takes the bag from him, peeking inside. 

It’s a sword.

“Not that you need a weapon to kick anybody’s ass but it wouldn’t hurt to have one,” he explains. “It’s shorter than the Kyoshi blades but it was the longest one I could find.”

She knows her heart is pounding and her eyes are misting and they each can sense one of those things. She knows her reaction is a little ridiculous, how much this means, how intensely she feels this gift. 

So she takes a breath and shakes her head out and throws her arms around Sokka’s neck. 

“Thank you,” she breathes, way too earnestly. She lets him go so she can pull her new sword out of the bag. He blushes, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well,” he says, tilting his head.

“Gross,” Toph mumbles. 

The grip is rigid, not worn down like her other weapons. The weight is a little off and it is shorter and wider than her usual blade. 

But it’s a sword and it’s in her hand, and she gives it a quick controlled spin with her wrist, out at her side away from the table. It has weight and power and makes her feel finally like she has something to hold onto.

“Let’s spar,” she says, hopping to her feet. 

“Right now?” Sokka asks. 

“Yeah,” she says. “Why not? What else are you doing today?”

And then of course she remembers that Sokka does have things to do pretty much every day, coming up with ideas and offering Aang some much needed moral support and talking strategy with Zuko and rationing out supplies. They’re the same in a lot of ways, but he still has a place here, a role to fill. 

“Or I can practice on my own,” she says, but he’s already heading for the hall to the courtyard, glancing at her over his shoulder. 

“Sure, I mean if you’re that scared I might win,” he taunts. 

She furrows her brow and fights against an outrageous smile that threatens. The sword is hard in her grip and she gives it another spin before jogging after him. 

  
  
  


She hasn’t fought Sokka since Kyoshi Island and it’s a world of difference. He’s learned a lot, and he moves with a confidence that’s no longer unearned and sloppy. He’s still not as good as her, not even that close, but he’s keeping up.

He’s a fast learner. She knew that from their first session, how once she knocked him down a peg and got him to listen to her, to see her for who she is, that he did the rest of the work. His eyes move fast and his brain moves faster, taking apart each attack and figuring out how to utilize them to maximize efficiency. 

They spar for hours and she can feel him analyzing her, her moves, her styles, her tells. She does the same, even though he’s such a mix of different styles and forms and strategies, always changing and adapting and finding new ways to play dirty. 

They break often when she pulls a particularly cool move and he asks her to walk him through it. 

And it’s amazing how right everything suddenly feels. This is what she should be doing. Training, with a weapon in her hand, Sokka across from her. Walking him through forms and watching him pick them up fast and turn them against her. Keeping on her toes, keeping her mind sharp, doing this dance with him around and around the courtyard. 

And then they’re going again and he does this strange duck out and twist that has his sword catching around the hilt of hers and sending it flying from her hand. 

He looks stunned when he comes back up, eyes wide. 

“Ha!” he says. She’s already springing up, kicking his sword out of his hand while he’s distracted and bringing him down, albeit gently, with her leg at the back of his knee and her hand on his chest. 

“Hey,” he protests weakly. “I totally won that one.”

“A fight doesn’t stop just because you lose your weapon,” she says, tilting her head. “Unless Fire Nation soldiers are a lot nicer these days.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. You’re just jealous.”

She scoffs. “It’s a new weapon. I’m getting used to the balance.”

“Sure, Suki,” he says, smiling smugly. “Whatever you say.”

She rolls her eyes and stands, reaching her hand down to help him up. He walks over and grabs his sword and hers, handing it back over. 

“Well,” she says. 

“What?” 

“Are you gonna show me how to do that?”

His eyes light up and yeah, okay, this is where she’s supposed to be. 

She finds that the move, like most things about Sokka, looks simple but in practice is complicated and subtle in its efficiency. 

“It’s fluid,” she says, moving through it loosely but deliberately. “Like waterbending. Is it a Water Tribe move?”

He shakes his head. “Or well, I don’t know,” he says. “I never had anyone to teach me how to fight in the village. All the people who could fight left when I was young.”

She turns to look at him, the way he ducks his head and lowers his voice. 

“You taught yourself how to fight?”

“Yeah, this is all a hundred percent Sokka style,” he adds, peeking up again. 

She rolls her eyes and squares her shoulders. 

“Alright come on,” she says, bringing her sword back around. “Let’s go.”

It takes a few tries, a few failed attempts she has to quickly cover for, but she eventually gets it, ducks out and twists and catches his sword at the hilt, sending it flying away. 

“Nice,” he says, just standing there so she tackles him to the ground again, tapping his chest with the flat of her sword.

He groans and rubs at the back of his head. “Oh, come on.”

“Pay attention then,” she says, rolling her eyes. He bats childishly at her sword and she lets him push it out of her hand to the ground before twisting his grip and pinning his wrist to the ground. 

His eyes widen and he’s still breathing a little heavy and oh, okay. 

She leans down a little and he strains up to meet her, his free hand slipping around her waist, up along her spine as their mouths catch in a heated kiss. She released his wrist to slip her hand up and lace their fingers together and he hums happily against her lips. It's intense, more intense than they’ve been before. Just as sweet and needy but with an edge. It’s kinda like all the fighting. She can tell that he’s putting his mind to it, figuring it out and adapting and learning her while she learns him. 

“Hey- oh, uh,” a voice comes from the side of the courtyard. 

They spring apart. Pretty much literally as Suki pushes off the ground and flings away, putting as much space between them. 

It’s Zuko. Which arguably is the best case scenario since he’s already seen worse and isn’t related to Sokka and isn’t twelve. 

“Uh, sorry,” he says, averting his eyes. 

“We were just training,” Sokka squeaks out. 

“Sure,” Zuko says and Suki slaps a hand over her eyes because she can’t watch this. “Uh, Katara says it’s your turn to help with laundry.”

“What? No way. I definitely did it last time,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. 

Zuko holds his hands up and shrugs. “That’s just what she told me.”

Sokka sighs and trudges over to pick up his sword. He dutifully kisses her on the cheek before making his way inside. 

“So, uh, training,” Zuko says as she wanders over to grab her sword. 

“We were actually training,” she offers.

“No, yeah, I wasn’t—“ He rubs at the back of his head. “I saw you guys when I passed by before. I haven’t had any time to practice in a while. With my swords.”

He shifts from foot to foot like he’s waiting for an answer even though he never asked a question. 

“Well, where are these swords?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. 

“Right,” he says. 

It takes him a few minutes. She practices some forms by herself in the meantime, getting herself more and more acquainted with the weight of this new blade. 

Zuko comes back with his swords and a gleam in his eyes. They square up and go. 

He’s better than Sokka in technique alone if not as quick thinking or adaptive. His motions are fast and aggressive, all action and little strategy. It’s a different kind of fight, one that reminds her of his sister even though they are obviously very different people. 

She tries Sokka’s weird duck out move and manages to get it the first time, knocking one of Zuko’s swords out of his hand. 

His eyes widen and he brings his other sword around to keep going but he’s obviously off balance. 

It only takes a few more minutes to get his other one too with a classic fake out and twist move she learned when she was twelve. 

“Wow,” he says, glancing down at the sword she points at him with wide eyes.

It’s clear he’s done fighting, even though it’s been drilled into her that you don’t stop just because your weapons are gone. She lets her sword fall anyway. 

“Next time try some fire bending,” she says, rolling her shoulders out. “I want a challenge.”

“Uh, actually,” he says. “Could you teach me that last thing you did with the twist?”

He goes to grab his swords where they’ve fallen. She stands a little straighter. 

She’s not sure what she’s doing here. She’s not sure why Sokka grabbed her hand and pulled her out of that tunnel, but she knows that he thinks ten steps ahead. She knows that she’s a warrior and that there’s little she can’t do if she has a weapon in her hand. 

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah I can.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing this. Let me know what you think!


End file.
